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Where birches bend by Loch Achray,
I see a cottage door ; I see a face so far away,
A gaze I'll glad no more ; A longing look, a fond, fond gaze,
As though its sight could reach To where I waste my lonely days
Upon this island beach ; Oh! whisper to her, wandering breeze,
A lone heart far away Breaks to be northward, o'er the seas,
With her by Loch Achray.
Day dies to dark and dark to-day Before these watching eyes;
How long—for ever must I stay Beneath these shadeless skies ?